DAYDREAMS is a journal of my thoughts, the fiction that colors my mind. Each post is a thought of its own. They are not meant to be connected; although, one will inevitably toy with another. You can expect to see one or two episodes a week. They will mostly be prose; but if you prefer, you can define them as poetry.

Episode Eighteen

Pure slap-stick,
hysterical comedy
but wasted on people who think their superior,
sophisticates with little sense of humor,
like a builder of tanks,
a banker, a lender,
a curious mime
trapped in a box
that no one can see.

And yet they all chuckle, poke fun,
say she is cuckoo,
and ask why she’s happy
dancing her handicaps
under their noses.

And yes I’m there too,
not funny like her
and not one of them,
just a poor slob
doubled over in laughter,
the last drink in a bottle
that tickles the throat.

She tells me that during the day
she runs a machine,
a whirling blade
for knifing the skin of an apple
and dicing its flesh.

I said that stumble on what they call progress,
the soundtrack, the backbeat,
the grinding of gears
flipping logic
for chaos.

But then who is a qualified critic?
Who judges the depth of a laugh?

b e g i n n i n g - t o - e n d
I am a retired art teacher and a wannabe writer. Everything I create is for my own enjoyment. I don’t work for others because I want total freedom to express what I want. All the work I post is original.

DAYDREAMS / RECENT EPISODES

EPISODE SEVENTEEN
EPISODE SIXTEEN
EPISODE FIFTEEN